My Mysterious Ailment

Can you believe that I got through the whole of July without a high quality whinge? I am sure that there has been snark peppered here and there, I certainly had a go at those smug millennials in the latest podcast, but all in all it has been pretty quiet on the whine front.

(During the editing of this blog post, I did a little fact checking and realised I have done NOTHING but bitch and moan about pretty much everything so please ignore that introduction.)

That is, until today. UNLEASH THE BEAST!

So exercise. When you talk about exercise you are likely to get one of three reactions. Slightly bored, bored and nothing but the sound of WHOOSKAA as the person flees the room. And I get this. Because when someone tells me about their workout, I start thinking about how much I am looking forward to tackling that washing pile and flossing my teeth.

Having said that, I am about to talk about exercise. Feel free to tune out at any stage.

But before I even start, let’s go back a few weeks. I turned up to my doctor to get a new script for my happy pills and she took my blood pressure as part of her general┬ánosiness. It wasn’t high, but it was a “touch elevated” and she ordered me to go and get some blood tests which I promised her that I would. But I will not because if I have something wrong with me, my ignorance will be my bliss.

Ok, I will get to that this week.

However, she did tell me that a person gets to my age you can start to expect things starting to malfunction and I was all giving her the hairy eyeball thinking “Well you are older than me! Whats going on with you?” But I didn’t because I was too busy having a slight panic attack that I was at the top of a very big mountain, and it was all downhill from here.

Now, before we start to talk about exercise, I just thought I would share with the group a new ailment that has presented itself. I have self diagnosed my latest condition (Merci Dr. Google). Me left big toe is starting to be crippled by arthritis! Some days it is better than others, but this week it has been a totally asshole. And I am totally blaming this flare up on exercise.

On Monday morning the Huffy Puffy Trainer to the moderately sweary reluctants turned up to put us through her program. Our group all suffer from mysterious ailments. One has a fucked knee, one can not get up and down from the mats without getting crazy head spins, someone has a fucked up neck. You can imagine the moans and groans.

The trainer is extremely lovely and chirpy and has excellent selective hearing, and she is so encouraging. So we were doing these things called mountain climbers. I will see if I can find a picture to show you what that means. Hang on……

Whoever came up with this move is a dead set┬ámasochist of the highest order. Anyway I did a few pathetic attempts at these before telling her that I didn’t like doing them, and so I will not be doing any more of them. But I did enough of them to ENRAGE MY BIG TOE INTO AGONY THE NEXT DAY!

I would like to leave this little yarn here, but as Tim Shaw says…

Wait! There’s More!

It turns out that during huffy puffy I respond well to praise, like a labrador, so when the trainer started complimenting my on my squats, I took it to the next level, squatting deeper, and slower, with a weight in my hand. I was a magnificent squatter, so much so that I went for GOLD!

After the session was over, I felt a bit wobbly and hot.

The next day I could not really use my legs. My toe was on fire and I walked in the manner of the tin man. Days later and it has not subsided. Stairs, inclines and decline environments are a total no go. It is necessary to take in a shot of tequila before using the latrine. I get some respite laying in a dark, calm room, that is until my toe does into spontaneous spasm. And the complaining! The complaining! Even I cannot even stand the sound of it anymore.

In conclusion, mountain climbers and squats can get into the bin.

Have you been assigned your mysterious ailment yet?

What did you get?